


come as you are

by habitualwords



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 04:44:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13159542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/habitualwords/pseuds/habitualwords
Summary: Deep down, he knows it’s a big mistake. The other part of Seokmin however,wantsthis. Wants it sobad, even if it’s only just for a night.





	come as you are

  
Mingyu slams his head onto the table with a drawn-out groan, drawing raised eyebrows from Seokmin and an impassive expression from Minghao. 

  
  
“Ignore him,” Minghao says, still scrolling through his phone. “It’s just his passion for theatrics.”

 

“I’m  _ gay _ , Minghao, not part of the drama club.”

 

Minghao raises an expertly filled brow. “The Venn diagram for gays and the drama club is a circle Mingyu.”   
  


Seokmin cackles at that, drawing attention from neighboring tables and he flushes, ducking his head. He then turns to Mingyu, who now has his face plastered against the surface of the table, brows furrowed and eyes closed. Seokmin’s nose crinkles in disgust; no one knows how much bacteria there is on the surface of the table. 

  
“What’s wrong?” He asks gently, poking Mingyu’s shoulder. 

  
“I forgot to tell my sister Jeonghan and I broke up, so now, I’m expected to have a plus one for her wedding. In two weeks.”

  
“Just take a friend.” Minghao finally sets his phone down. 

  
Seokmin nods and Mingyu’s frown deepens. Seokmin is a lot of things, but when it comes to Mingyu, he's always been a weak person, rushing in to his aid. This time is no different; seeing him frown like that, lower lip jutting out in some desperate attempt to move either Minghao or Seokmin, has Seokmin caving in. 

  
“I’m not sure my legs will look good in a skirt…” Seokmin trails off. He knows he’s deflecting.   
  


Mingyu’s expression brightens somewhat, a smile breaking across his face like the sun shining past the clouds.

  
"Like I just said,” Mingyu intones. “I’m gay. Homosexual.  _ Very  _ out to my family. Of course, I’m not against you wearing a skirt if you want to.”

_ Right _ . Half of Seokmin’s problems would be solved if Mingyu was straight, if Seokmin never had the  _ slimmest _ chance to date Mingyu, to begin with. Seokmin can hear the blood rushing in his ears, and feel the erratic beating of his heart. He's imagined being with Mingyu for a good part of three years now, but his imaginations had never led him in the direction of a  _ possibility  _ with Mingyu. Seokmin stammers and across him, Minghao’s grinning in a way that can only mean mischief.

  
“That’s a great idea, Mingyu! In fact, Seokmin and you are so close they’re going to buy it,” Minghao says, leaning forward.

  
Seokmin widens his eyes at Minghao, frantically attempting to telepathically communicate how bad of an idea this is. Minghao  _ knows _ Seokmin has a crush on Mingyu, figured it out even before Seokmin had realized it.    
  


Mingyu turns to Seokmin, eyes wide and pleading, hands clasped under his chin. His lower lip juts out in a pout and some things are just a given, at this point. Like 1) Some days, Seokmin knows Mingyu better than Seokmin knows himself. 2) On his bad days, hell, even on his good days, it’s Mingyu that Seokmin naturally gravitates to. 3) Lee Seokmin has always been in love with Kim Mingyu.

  
“Okay,” Seokmin relents. 

  
Deep down, he knows it’s a big mistake. Going out with his best friend, whom he’s in love with, pretending to be Mingyu’s boyfriend in front of his whole family. Deep down, he knows that all this will do is hurt him, leave a bigger, gaping hole in him. The other part of Seokmin however, the shallower, materialistic, and impulsive part of him,  _ wants _ this. Wants it so  _ bad _ , even if it’s only just for a night.

 

“Just to clarify, you just need me to pretend to be your boyfriend in front of your family, yes?” 

  
Mingyu bites his lower lip, avoiding meeting Seokmin’s eyes; Seokmin has been Mingyu’s friend long enough to know that there’s something he’s not revealing. 

  
“What are you hiding?” Seokmin demands.

  
“I mean… like you’ll probably have to do more than that. You’ll definitely end up in the family picture because my parents love chronicling my relationships, we’ll have to dance together, that’s a given, and uh.”    
  
“And?”

  
“We  _ might _ have to kiss. To convince them, you know?” Mingyu says, in a rush, the words running together.

  
Seokmin didn’t register anything after the word kiss, mouth agape.

  
“Okay,” Seokmin croaks out. He clears his throat. “I’ll do it.”

  
“Really?” Mingyu yells, an even bigger grin spreading across his face, eyes bright. 

  
Seokmin nods, amused when Mingyu throws his arms around him in a hug. He relaxes into it, relishing the stolen seconds where he can pretend this is more than an embrace between friends. He freezes up when Mingyu presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek, the younger cackling when Seokmin turns to him with his brows raised in puzzlement.

  
“Practice, remember?” Mingyu teases.

  
“Practice.” Seokmin echoes.

  
Over the top of Mingyu’s head, Minghao mouths the words you’re fucked. Seokmin flips him the bird subtly, an art he’s so practiced at that Mingyu, still clinging to him, doesn’t notice. 

  
“I’ve got class now, but I’ll text you the details!” Mingyu yells as he leaves the table, making more heads turn.   
  


Seokmin waves at him until he’s out of sight, head thudding onto the table when he’s no longer visible. Minghao bursts into laughter, high pitched cackles leaving his mouth. Accompanied by the chatter of other students and the clatter of utensils, Seokmin feels like the world, as a collective, is laughing at him. 

  
**{***}**   
  
It’s not that Mingyu and Seokmin don’t spend a lot of time together, no, it’s quite the opposite, really, but Seokmin isn’t used to just how  _ tactile _ Mingyu is. Seokmin is a tactile person himself, but he’s never sought Mingyu out to fulfill his need for touch. This Mingyu who seeks Seokmin out as often as he can is one that sets Seokmin on edge, hands clammy and heart racing. They walk to classes with their hands tightly intertwined, and Mingyu makes it a point to kiss Seokmin’s cheek as often as he can. There are the smaller things too, like home-cooked meals from Mingyu and an offering of some caffeinated beverage or the other at their shared 8 a.m. class. Seokmin feels like he’s been thrown for a loop, and he’s not sure when the world is going to reveal the punchline to this elaborate joke.    
  


Saturday comes sooner than Seokmin was prepared for, his alarm waking him up at an obscenely early 8.30 a.m. It’s definitely a departure from his Saturday routine, which usually involves sleeping in till lunch, and then spending the rest of his day in boxers. He can already feel the pressure of a headache building up at the back of his head, anxiety cloying his throat. Part of him wants to call it off, to tell Mingyu this is a big mistake, but he’s nothing if not a man of his word.

  
His ceiling swims in and out of focus until he finally rolls out of bed. Behind his door hangs the only suit he owns, a navy blue number he’s had since his high school prom. It’s probably a few inches too short, but ankle pants are all the rage if Minghao is to be trusted.    
  


“You got this, Seokmin.” he murmurs to his reflection.    
  


He takes a perfunctory shower, pulls off the cleanest shave of his life, and douses himself in a perfume. Ironically enough, it’s a gift from Mingyu, a perfume Seokmin would’ve never picked out on his own. He finds himself outside Mingyu and Minghao’s door at a quarter to ten, pressing the bell hesitantly.    
  


He hears shouts from inside, and Minghao swearing in Mandarin before a frazzled looking Mingyu opens the door. To Seokmin’s surprise, Mingyu’s wearing a deep maroon suit, with a black shirt and a white bowtie, all of which serve to accentuate his golden tan and his endlessly long legs. With his blonde hair, he looks like one of those models Minghao’s always fawning over. Seokmin’s throat is painfully parched, and the headache is building up. 

 

Mingyu yanks Seokmin in before attacking him with a lint roller, rolling it across Seokmin’s shoulders and his pants. His throat constricts even further at the sight of Mingyu on his knees in front of him, choking on an inhale. Mingyu looks up with a raised brow and Seokmin shakes his head, smiling in a way that feels forced, even to him. Once he’s satisfied, he stands up with a grin, brandishing his lint roller. In his chest, Seokmin’s heart thumps rather forcefully.   
  


“You clean up good,” Mingyu says offhandedly as if he was commenting on something as simple as the weather.    
  


“You do too.” This time, his smile comes more naturally.    
  


“So, details to remember. We’ve been dating for a month, we’re hopelessly in love and be prepared for the possibility that I’ll kiss you. Just make up some bullshit if someone asks how we started dating, I’ll go along with it.”   
  


Seokmin nods, sighing a little when Mingyu directs one of his signature grins at him, gentle and warm, dripping of kindness and the earnest passion that makes up Mingyu. The drive to the wedding venue is short and uneventful, Seokmin too nervous to do anything more than nervously fidget. Mingyu glances at him in concern every once in a while, but Seokmin waves him off.   
  


The first and last time Seokmin had been to The Red Lizard was approximately five years ago when his own cousin had gotten married. The Red Lizard was a combination of an event space and one of the best restaurants in their city. His cousin’s wedding reception had been at night and the sunshine of high noon turned The Red Lizard into a completely different place. By the cliffs, overlooking the bay, the floor to ceiling windows gave way to a memorable view accented by the minimalistic decoration and mahogany flooring presenting an impression of warmth. 

 

Against all his expectations, the wedding is smaller than any he’d been to before. This also means that it is a tight-knit affair, and Seokmin finds himself feeling the slightest bit out of place, watching Mingyu move around the room, greeting guests with an ease that made Seokmin feel tight in his skin. Mingyu makes his rounds speaking to friends and family until the point he introduces his parents to Seokmin. After their introduction, Mingyu stays firmly by his side, the rumble of his voice putting Seokmin at ease. It’s easier than Seokmin thought it would be, slipping into the role of Mingyu’s boyfriend, even if it’s been a while since he last dated. Mingyu’s parents make for amazing conversation partners, enquiring into his life with a genuine interest in it, something Seokmin realizes Mingyu picked up from them. Under their attention, Seokmin blooms, hyper-aware of Mingyu’s hand on the small of his back, the way Mingyu ever so often looks at Seokmin with pride — pride, and something else.     
  


The ceremony itself is beautiful — and while Minghao had made Seokmin promise not to cry, Seokmin finds himself tearing up. Pressed thigh to thigh, Mingyu had chuckled and elbowed him, whispering about how Seokmin was way too sentimental for his own good. He stopped when his father turned around and leveled him with a glare, which brought a smile to Seokmin’s face. It was cute to see Mingyu flustered and blushing, with no means to defend himself. It is a side that Seokmin sees very often, but one that never fails to cheer him up. In Minghao’s words, there  _ is  _ the slightest bit of joy to be found in Mingyu’s misery.  _ Sometimes.  _

  
The reception has the nerves worming their way back under his skin, the departure of some of the ceremony guests making the already small circle  _ smaller _ . With no excuse now, Seokmin hangs onto Mingyu’s arm as they make their way around tables, introducing himself and thanking the guests with Mingyu. All in all, it’s not a bad experience, with other things that make up for it: the warmth of Mingyu's hand on his lower back, the way Mingyu effortlessly steers the conversation towards safer waters, the way most of Mingyu's family seems to welcome Seokmin with open arms. Seokmin’s heart skips a beat every time, and by 6 p.m., he’s all too familiar with the way Mingyu's hand feels on his arm, his lower back, an all too warm reminder. It’s starting to feel like every spot Mingyu touches leaves behind a brand on Seokmin’s skin, another reminder of his hopeless,  _ hapless  _ devotion to Mingyu.

  
“He’s great Mingyu, if you’re not too careful, I might steal him away from you!” One of Mingyu's cousins calls out as they leave her table. 

  
“You wish!” Mingyu sticks out his tongue at her, steering Seokmin with a firm grip on his elbow towards the dance floor.

 

“May I have this dance, Lee Seokmin?” 

  
“Sure,” Seokmin replies, albeit a little bit breathless. 

  
Maybe it’s the champagne he’s been drinking but Seokmin feels like a bottle of champagne himself, light and bubbly. He’s self-conscious of the way he moves in comparison to Mingyu’s steady, assured movements, but the warmth of Mingyu’s palm on his shoulder grounds him. Pressed close together, Seokmin has to crane his neck to look at Mingyu, who smiles in assurance when he catches Seokmin looking at him.

  
“You’re brilliant. My parents love you, my sister has no clue, and I owe you.” Mingyu whispers, almost reverently.

  
Seokmin smiles nervously in response; the pressure building up in his chest from his proximity to Mingyu. They’re swaying from side to side, circling the room, Seokmin trying his best not to step on Mingyu’s toes. 

  
“Friends do that kind of thing, right?” he offers, voice cracking from nerves.

  
For a moment, Mingyu’s expression flickers, brows furrowing minutely and mouth pursed in an expression of distaste before a grin takes its place, albeit more subdued than usual.   
  
“Yes, that’s right. Friends.” Mingyu repeats, voice weird. Seokmin doesn’t pay much attention to it, smiling up at Mingyu. 

  
“Sorry to disturb you, but could I have a dance with Seokmin, Gyu?” Mingyu’s cousin — Miyoung, if Seokmin recalls correctly, asks.   
  


Mingyu smiles graciously and nods, stepping away from Seokmin. He misses the warmth of Mingyu’s body against his, and it’s barely been 5 seconds. Dancing with Miyoung is easy, sort of. They just sway in their spot, much like what he was doing with Mingyu earlier.  Apparently, being gorgeous ran in the genes of Mingyu’s extended family as well. They had the same thick hair and wide, easy grins, as well as height that had more use bestowed to supermodels. That, combined with the fact that Seokmin wasn’t the best dancer, and the fact that Miyoung was a near stranger was more than enough to have him direct his focus to make sure he doesn’t step on her feet, instead of conversing with her. 

 

Miyoung seems to find him endearing though if the occasional chuckle and the fact that they’ve been dancing for two songs now means anything. Secretly, Seokmin’s relieved when Mingyu comes to save him Miyoung’s clutches. It makes Miyoung sound like a terrible person, but it’s less that and more the fact that Seokmin’s never been the best around women. Attractive people in general, really; he’s always been a little bit too easy to fluster. 

  
“I was starting to get worried you’d let me dance with your cousin all night long,” Seokmin mutters.

  
Mingyu chuckles and Seokmin can feel the rumble of it. In an uncharacteristically bold move, Seokmin lays his head against Mingyu’s chest as they sway in their spot. Perhaps he’s just making it up, but he can hear the steady beat of Mingyu’s heart. In this bubble, he can pretend that Mingyu and he are more than friends; that they’re actually dating.    
  


The song changes to something he recognizes – Childish Gambino’s Redbone, and he smiles, tucking his face further into Mingyu’s jacket. It’s only then does he feel fingers gently lifting his face up, Mingyu looking at him with an expression Seokmin can’t fathom. It’s offsetting because Seokmin’s spent at least three years deciphering his expressions. It’s far too soft, far too warm, Mingyu's eyes glistening with an emotion Seokmin can barely name — one that unleashes a flurry of tornadoes in his stomach.

  
Seokmin spots the beginnings of a smile on Mingyu's face before he leans down, their lips meeting together gently. Several things happen, all at once. Seokmin’s hyper-aware of the scent of Mingyu’s cologne, how clammy his hand is in Mingyu’s, how all the noise melts away. He stiffens up the first few seconds, and then, his body takes over. After all, he’s  _ always _ wanted to kiss Mingyu. He moves closer instinctively, their lips moving together naturally, even if it’s inelegant. Mingyu’s lips part against Seokmin and his brain finally catches up.

  
_ This is a big mistake _ . 

  
He pulls away quickly, Mingyu’s eyes wide in surprise before his expression shutters off, biting his lower lip, brow furrowed. The centimeters between their bodies feels like a chasm, one that can’t be bridged.   
  


“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” Mingyu begins.

 

“I need to leave.” Seokmin blurts out. “Now. I forgot. An assignment. Yeah.”    
  


From the point he hails a cab to the point he finds himself out of his suit and under the shower, scrubbing furiously at his body, Seokmin can still feel the ghost of Mingyu’s lips against his.    
  
**{***}**   
  


As a child, Seokmin was branded with the label of being an overthinker. When confronted with the fact, he’d crack a joke and then, he would laugh the insecurity the label brought off. Over the years, it’s become a defense mechanism that he’s honed to perfection. Laughter was always,  _ always _ a good way to deflect, and it cumulated into a reputation. Lee Seokmin, trustworthy funny guy. People liked him, even if it was only because he knew how to crack a joke or two, and to a person who never sat easily in his skin, it was good enough. 

  
The thing about Seokmin is he internalizes, pushes it all in, pours a ton of concrete over it and prays that it never escapes. The truth, however, is that he’s closer to a shaken up bottle of cola. Give him the slightest opening, and he’s fizzing all over, leaving a mess as he goes.    
  


The current situation is just as sticky. Either Mingyu was fooling around, or too drunk to register that he had kissed Seokmin. It’s hard to avoid someone you share classes and free time with. Seokmin used to sit next to Mingyu at their shared lectures, always in the front row but lately, he’s been using the back entrances, sitting at the back, leaving as soon as the professor dismisses the class. He stops going to their weekly hangouts as well, fully aware of the fact that he might bump into Mingyu.

  
Seokmin doesn’t miss the look of hurt the few times he’d met Mingyu’s eyes on the quad. Minghao, on the other hand, is throwing his own hissy fit, constantly glaring at both Seokmin and Mingyu. Seokmin supposes that’s what happens when both your best friends start ducking around each other in hallways. He can’t remember the last time he sat down and ate a full meal with Minghao without leaving halfway because Mingyu would show up at their table.    
  


When there’s a knock on his door two weeks later, followed by Mingyu letting himself in with an apologetic smile, Seokmin’s surprised.   
  


“Soonyoung let me in,” he says, by way of explanation, possibly noticing Seokmin’s raised eyebrows.

  
Mingyu’s nervously rocking on the balls of his feet, toying with the hem of his jacket. 

  
“Hi,” he croaks out.

  
Seokmin’s still too surprised to speak, raising his hand in a hesitant wave instead. Mingyu chuckles self-deprecatingly, grating, harsh around the edges. It’s at odds with who Mingyu is as a person, in general. 

  
“You could at least pretend we’re friends, you know?”   
  


Friends. _ Friends _ . Seokmin’s beginning to get real tired of that word.   
  


“Friends don’t kiss each other, Gyu.” Seokmin says, voice barely above a whisper.

  
He wants to kick Mingyu out, but this conversation is something that has been building from the moment they kissed at the wedding. Instead, he moves to the side, making space for Mingyu on his bed and gesturing at it. Mingyu offers a weak smile and sits down.

  
“Were you drunk when you kissed me?” Seokmin asks.

  
He doesn’t  _ want _ the answer, not really. But he does  _ need _ it. Mingyu looks uncomfortable, and it’s all answer Seokmin needs.

  
“Jeonghan told me I look at you the way I look at no one else,” Mingyu blurts out.

  
Seokmin finally meets his eyes, confused.

 

“Jeonghan and I… we broke up because he told me he could never compete with you. Since the breakup, I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you but,” Mingyu shrugs.

  
“It’s sort of hard. You treat everyone with the same kindness, the same earnestness. I could never tell if you’d even look at me the way I looked at you.” Mingyu’s voice is raw, his expression far too open, but there’s tension in the way he’s holding himself back.    
  


Seokmin’s breath hitches and his fingers itch – to reach out to Mingyu, to card his fingers through Mingyu’s hair, to do anything. It’s funny how being confronted with a confession Seokmin has dreamed of for years has him frozen in his place.

  
“And then while Miyoung was dancing with you, my sister told me how good we looked together. I think she figured we weren’t dating, but it only made me want to ask you out even more…” he trails off, voice even more hesitant.

  
Mingyu looks up from where he’s playing with the bedsheets, their eyes meeting properly. 

  
“What I’m trying to say, Seokmin is that I like you. I always have, as a friend and perhaps, as something more. Asking you to the wedding was. Well, it was supposed to be the start of something new.” Mingyu’s voice is cracking around the words and Seokmin can hardly hear past the blood rushing in his ears. 

  
“ _ Oh. _ ” Seokmin sighs out.

  
One sound had never felt so poignant before, that one oh charging the room with so much electricity Seokmin feels like he’s outside right before a thunderstorm, the taste of metal on his tongue. Hesitantly, Seokmin reaches out until his hand is in Mingyu’s, their hands fitting together perfectly, short and stubby with long and slender. 

  
Mingyu gives him another smile, more rueful this time. “I like you, Lee Seokmin.” 

  
They’re close enough on the bed that they’re pressed thigh to thigh, and Seokmin’s filled with a sense of déjà vu from the wedding. He doesn’t offer any words – he has none, after all. This is Mingyu in front of him, at his rawest, confessing to wanting everything Seokmin wants. In a reversal of roles that feel as significant as the rituals of a prayer, Seokmin cups Mingyu's face in his hands, leaning forward until there’s the barest of spaces between their lips.

  
Mingyu is the one who closes that space, twisting his torso and meeting Seokmin’s lips with a sort of rushed, desperate energy. Seokmin pulls away before it can escalate, and Mingyu has the biggest, brightest smile on his face, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. It’s not an expression Seokmin is familiar with, but one he doesn’t mind seeing again and again. 

  
“Will you go out with me, Lee Seokmin?” 

  
Seokmin nods, pressing his forehead against Mingyu’s, hands clasped tightly together on the bed. Two halves of a whole, finally in place. Sometimes things just  _ are _ that simple. You fall in love. You kiss. You talk. You stay in love. You take a step forward.   
  
  
  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in November for another pairing, but then edited it to fit this. I should probably stop editing & posting fic at ass o'clock in the morning, but my sleep schedule is fucked anyways. Please do leave kudos/comments if you enjoyed this! Alternatively, hmu on twitter @gyuseokhao.


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